


Sneaky

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-20
Updated: 2006-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor asks Hermione's permission to take her to the Yule Ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneaky

As she reached to lift down the thick book at the pinnacle of the accumulated tower of reference texts beside her, it toppled and landed on the floor with a deafening bang, puffs of dust flying off it.

Hermione bent over, hasty with guilt, but before she could pick it up a pair of feet appeared at the edge of her vision. They were large feet in soft calfskin boots, somewhat at a thirty-degrees' angle in direction. An arm reached down and a rough hand wrapped with incongruous gentleness around the heavy volume, picked it up and held it in offering. She straightened herself and looked up. Prominent hook nose, was the first thing she noticed. Thick eyebrows.

And anxious, dark eyes. And a deep breath.

"Hermy-own?" He spoke very low, almost a whisper-voice. He placed the book on the table, then his hand on the book, and leaned down towards her, shaggy black bangs falling in his eyes. "If you permit, I haff question I must ask."

Curious, she tilted her head up. His soft, careful speech and the way he stood, gently bowed down from his considerable height, made the situation feel strange -- a little too close despite his respectful demeanour. Hermione had had no idea that Krum even knew her name. Well, in a manner of speaking. 'Hermy-own'?

It was stranger still, that his slow-spoken care made her feel more tolerant than she ought to have been with a silly Quidditch heartthrob mangling her name, invading her space, and interrupting her Arithmancy calculations. "Yes?" 

He drew another deep breath, fixed a quietly imploring gaze on her. "Vould it please you to do me great honour, to allow me to escort you at Yule ball?"

She only stared at him. He can't mean what it sounds like he means, she thought, but as she considered his excruciatingly polite request, it seemed clear that must be exactly what he _had_ meant, and she reddened, felt rude for her protracted silence. "Er ... pardon? That is, well, why? I mean ... _me_?" she said, her voice squeaky with bewilderment.

"Because ... you are only one I vant to ask?" He was really whispering now, and she didn't know why her mouth suddenly wanted to smile. Maybe it was the hint of desperate humour in his eyes.

And just as suddenly, her heart was attempting to set a speed record. 

"We don't know each other, Krum."

He appeared to consider her objection seriously, as he gave a slow nod. "That can be changed, yes? For begin vith, you perhaps vill like to call me Viktor?"

Her smile escaped before she had any say in the matter. "I ... I guess I could do that."

"If you haff already accepted someone else --" 

She dipped her head quickly. Oh, there was allure in the way he phrased it. As if she were a fair lady, with heaps of champions vying for her favour and the power to break all their hearts save one.

"Vy you are laughing?"

Recognizing the alarm in his expression, Hermione clamped down on her chuckle. "You're in luck," she said wryly. "I have accepted none of the legion of gallants beating down my door."

He frowned as he deciphered her reply, then took a third deep breath which he exhaled in a huff that sounded relieved and a mite unsteady. "Then, vould it please you ... to allow me ...?"

"Well ... yes," she laughed softly. "It would please me, I think."

She was unprepared for the smile she got in return, a warm wave breaking in his eyes and then releasing all over his face, shockingly charming against his exotic hawkish beak and heavy eyebrows. His hand was over his chest, as if he were catching his breath from a tough training session.

"Vos ... afraid to ask," he admitted. "Practiced long time. You make me happy, Hermy-own."

At once shocked by his frankness and intrigued by it, Hermione put her forearms on her tower of books and leaned a little into the closeness his posture invited. But a thought struck her as she registered the bulk and size of the book on top, and the sturdiness of those beneath it, and she raised her elbows in the same instant, looking down at the books with suspicion rising in her.

"You ... you _made_ that book fall, didn't you?" she blurted out, astonished. She looked up at him again in utter confusion. "I had stacked them very carefully! You spelled it to fall down, just so you'd ... have an excuse to talk to me!"

His smile had vanished for a startled, caught-out expression as she leaned back on her chair and folded her arms over her chest, mutely requesting an explanation. A book! Ancient, irreplaceable words on frail parchment, thunked to the floor like a sack of garbage ... sacrilege!

And yet -- it was quite … clever of him, too. Resourceful, Hermione had to admit, pursing her lips against something that twitched at the corners of her mouth, even harder to restrain as she saw it start to echo back from his glittering eyes. Krum ... Viktor had been chosen as a tournament champion after all; he ought to know his spells. Frowning, she checked with two fingers along the book's spine. 

Viktor gave a low, embarrassed laugh. "Come here each day, but you alvays look ... extremely busy. So serious. And I not vanted you to think I disturb, not make you angry so you vould refuse me. I used spell that makes much noise and no damage. See?" His fingertips trailed the book's spine too in eager demonstration, brushing along her own for a moment before she snatched her hand away as if burned, her insides flipping over like from the jolt of a Ferris wheel turning. His fingers had stilled on the spot; the weather-chapped knuckles paling somewhat.

"That is a very sneaky sort of spell," she said in a shaky voice, meeting his gaze with her heart thumping. It was hard to believe that Viktor Krum found her so irresistible that the fear of her rejection had made him resort to such a childish trick. Hard to believe, and yet it felt ... just a bit wonderful if it were true. And why would he lie about it? 

"Very sneaky," he agreed with a soft appeal in his smile, a bit of mischief in his gaze. "Please tell me you not angry, Hermy-own."

"Honestly?" She shook her head slowly. "You could give lessons to some boys I know." 

She gave him a lop-sided smile before she turned to her Arithmancy notes again, deciding that some lovely, clear equations were what she needed to cool her face and stop her stomach feeling so fluttery strange. He remained there for a second, his hand still on the book, before he quietly made to go.

"Wait … Viktor?"

He half-turned and looked at her over his shoulder. Was it really her, Hermione, who had wiped the perennial scowl off Krum's face? "Yes?" 

"I ... I'm really glad," she said, the words sort of heaping up on her lips and stumbling over each other a little as they spilled out. "That you thought of a way to ... to ask me. Even if it was ... sneaky."

He nodded, his solemn eyes crinkling under stern eyebrows. "Am really glad I found a vay, too."

 

-end-


End file.
